Sea Of Glass lyrics:
Be the Beast
Every body is against me
laughing behind my back,
I pretend I don’t hear
Opportunists at my door step
Racists all around me
There’s terror in my heart
I would kill for peace
I’m not even close to happy
But not for lack of constant trying
The formula they sell me
Corporatists they pucker lips
‘Round Machiavelli’s bull horn
and Screaming in my hungry ears
You can kill for peace
you should kill for peace
This is no defeatist moment
I have hope, that death will fix it
He could level the cane fields
Malthus sings a lullaby
To ease us into democide
and rid the word of parasites
I will kill for peace
You will kill for peace
We will kill for peace
Something‘s in the air this morning
Questionable decision making
Who fights fire with fire?
Who pays taxes, votes for hacks and
Canonizes whackos
the Devil in your group think
But We will fund the
We will feed the
We will be the beast
Iron Scarecrow
There’s wire running through our veins
Our eyes replaced with cameras
We watch the world with pixels
Arranged in fantasy
And oh what a picture what a colorful picture
We are the hungry, we swallow it whole
Slaves to the lender, for his paper tender
The hopeless global zeitgeist
brings sweet foretaste of doom
Sarcastic leaders holding hands
We laud their whitewashed tombs
Is there no deliverance
From the gods of convenience
Bring in the prince of the power of the air
He tickles our eardrums, he promises honey
Imposter father fixes strings
Hog ties our hands and feet
His brothers lick their fingers
Take pay for tinkering
Who will chop the fingers from the hand of the butcher
We are not builders, we are destroyers
And we want a failure, a father to shame
The Politician
It is for the children
It is for your safety
Just take these
and watch Tv
It is for your psyche
It is for the children
It is for democracy
We must legislate equality
It is for freedom
Freedom from religion
It is for your safety
We must save you from the terrorists
The terrorist deep inside you
The terrorist in your heart
We will burry you
In your back yard
Koolaid
The plastic man told us in his swollen harmonics
The approval of war in foreign land is patriotic
Oh, how we(’re) proud (pray) ourselves
An empty man speaks and everybody listens
Says we can spend our way out of this clinical depression
Oh and 18 trillion
So let’s just keep on bending
I’m sleepy in my nightgown I’m comfy in my bunker
My welfare’s never up and I’m cranky when you wake me with numbers
There is no peace in Washington, there is death
The people are crazy, they clamor for action
Government is satisfied with it’s own expansion
O how we cry for ourselves
When there’s business in bailing us out
The people are crazy, the people are weary
The ship is going down the crew is in a slumber
despite the thunder
There is no peace…
Zombocolypse
Listen. The hallway is creaking.
I hear them barely breathing,
Waiting for the rest of the dead to arrive.
I know there’s no way out, but I can’t just sit here and let them eat me.
I’ll run away and build an army to keep them all at bay,
As they pour through that wide golden gate.
A zombie apocalypse is upon us.
Pucker up for your trumpets.
You knew where this was headed all along
When you sided with that fat wicked throng.
And I can hardly see the purpose of these overwhelming odds.
There’s too many.
And I can barely hear the Angels’ trumpets calling on me.
My doubt rings like a
Broken cymbals may. With an everlasting sustain.
Through all the drunken haze that still small voice refrains,
Make your home in Jesus, make your home in Jesus.
Burn Babylon, destroy the strip mall church,.
For Heaven on the earth.
And I won’t hesitate when the mighty trumpets have opened my ears.
There’s no more waiting.
Testimony
Skipping stones they kiss the water
A mirror rippled bends the light
The outward rolling golden circles
Set aglow my grateful eye
Dragonflies hum
A robin gives his testimony
But you count it all as an elaborate chance
And you dance your broken down tribal dance
Conjure up a media to fix up your trance
It’s time to wake up, the sun is in the sky
Bleaching weary bones
Comfort In A Lie
As we grow older into antiquity
With ageless silvers and wisdoms regality
as time becomes a mere observation
we’ll nestle together on a pillow of clouds
But how can I trust you
selling secrets behind my back
Selling secrets to the enemy
For comfort in a lie
When you fear the treasures are not real
I’ll retell the visions of Ezekiel
And we’ll curl up together under our Comforter’s
Heavenly blanket, blanket of stars
Vacuum Aspirations
Have you seen post-modern Ba’al
His tongue is a conveyor belt
In his throat an open flame
His belly tight as cellophane
On the disassembly line
A harvest of the sordid kind
To render out your progeny
to render out your garbage
It’s ok, they’re only blood stains
It’s ok, we choose our own mistakes
Open up for sexual freedom
The belly of the beast is waiting
for tender caged offspring
The inmate of your body
A lawless bed, a callous reason
The devil waits in a neo-eden
Free from curse of children
On the blood of children
It’ ok…
Propagate the perfect future
A weeding out of all the failures
Potential threats to progress
Burn the bastards, breed the flawless
A barbaric paradise awaits
survival of the neo-race
survival of the fittest
survival of the neo-racist
Golden Gate
I know who I’m dealing with
If the fruit is bad the tree is sick
Fire is gonna burn up all my branches
I’m so filthy, I can’t shower
If I scrub my skin, I’ll lose the power
exposing all the weakness in my heart
Well even demons believe and shudder
And all my requests have gone unanswered
I won’t be always falling on def ears
If I cannot live in my own glory
My death can live on in a tragic story
Cause I am the king of my life in the grave
Oh, the weight that led me to the bridge that day
Oh, I clung to the burden I dropped in the bay
Though it seems so much harder on earth
Living in Hell is so much worse
If this is where the mind goes crazy
Save me from myself oh Lord
The darkness in my bones is bored
And coming out with vengeance and a sword
Oh, I know it was nearly time to go home
Oh, I left you with so much work to be done
Oh, I choked when the word lumped in my throat
Oh, the lies that led me to the bridge in the autumn twilight
Inhibitor Inhibitor
As you float in outer space
Your feet feel comfort locked in pace
And as the clocks go drip drip
There’s pleasure in the endlessness
From frozen gems on sawtooth peaks
Rivulets fill swollen creeks
Where Grizzly bears and honey bees
Dance in complex harmony
And we don’t have a clue
The monster in the belly tells the beast what to do
They call you the silent type
With lofty treasures on your mind
Lead us to your hiding place
blind our eyes and burn our faces
You cannot quiet your mind
This broken inhibitor, this limiter of the sublime
You removed your governor and you’re stupefied
Thank the lord, for you are blessed
With brain that filters consciousness
Buoys a bobbing mind that swims
Through ocean currents’ turbulence
When you peak through keyhole eyes
You’re overwhelmed and crystalized
The salty light will shatter you
Dilate and be vaporized
I went to far this time
I broke my inhibitor this limiter of the sublime
I removed my governor now I’m stupefied
The Idiot
Remember when you drove
From deep within the south
To the california coast
All the way back home
A schizophrenic mind
So eager to be kind
But foolish to believe
That there would be understanding
That there would be belief
Phoenix was on fire
The glowing of the sunset
Was promising the end
A blessing for the dead
The earth was scorched with passion
And drinking heat refractions
The Idiot’s coming home
Through boiling swamps and desert roads
With freedom from the grave
Healing for the lame
Disassembling fantasy
With the beauty of reality
They say “the earth is rich and beautiful
The heavens void unlivable
Come back rejoin our cult
It’s just a clearing of the throat”
Cause now you are the rebel
To the hippies and the devil
A megaphone downtown
A prophet and a clown
Incurring wrath of rulers
Revealing unjust measures
And they can hear you shout
Words they’ll never care about
The pack knows only doubting
These wolves in sheep clothing
Are teaching in the valley
Where the children run headlong to the grave
Why Do I Do?
I curse my situation
I wear it on my face
Like a bitter teen
My father’s disgrace
I aim to ride the wind
A harlequin’s friend
We hold hands at the cliff’s edge in His backyard
Your lips taste like venom when we kiss in His garden
I push it far from my mind
Why do I do what I hate it’s not you
The devil can be no scapegoat
Why do I see that the problem is me
If I don’t have the power to change
Why do I do what I hate it’s not you
The devil can be no man’s scapegoat
I’ve got hope in God who knows just who I am
The painter of painters, The Author of color
In His mind is my mind
The first topographer, the compass, the water
The wine that gives life
The lamb and the shepherd, from my mess I’m delivered
Into the light, into the light
Why do I do what I hate? I can choose
The devil can be no man’s scapegoat
You make me see the problem is me
now give me the power to change
Tidal Effect
You caught me up in your gravity
Now I am your satellite
Cleansed by your light and richest fire
Every year I’m pulled in a little tighter
And though I’m under
All this tidal pressure
To learn the freedom of this tether
This is only the orbit of the earth
I know you will keep me in your church
Warbler (self titled):
•••1••• Do you want a fight? You take your fist and shake it at the sky. My heart disease is philosophy. Like the love discovered in the 1960s. Now it’s viral, how it tickles my ears. But who will save us from your remedies? Do you want a fight? You burst your eardrums to get some peace and quiet. So put on your chic angora slavery. Fog machines, laser beams, and tribal dance parties. Graven bodies forged by plastic surgery. But who can conquer the grave? Do you want a fight? You put your eyes out to win against the light, etc.
•••2••• Oh, to die is gain, etc. Don’t let me be carried away by the lusts of the flesh. Stolen fruit may taste so sweet, but the penalty is death. Don’t me be taken away when the enemy surrounds. All my work has come to naught, I was drunk and lost when found. Quick to mercy, slow to wrath, put me in your cloak where the fire burns so clean, I cannot smell the smoke. Oh, to die is gain. But to live is Christ!, etc.
•••3••• Laughter is more precious than gold. Lies are bought when joy is sold. My lungs are tired of believing the air, one of these days, they’re gonna fold. Love is more precious than blood that runs through your veins and into the mud. I watched him die soaking in a bathtub: I guess he was tired of cleaning up. Follow men fall like dominoes pushing each other over in single file rows. Great numbers make no community, and there’s loneliness in the middle of the city. We sit inside our homes away from home keeping our dreams safe in fantastical roles. Looking around me for a single sober soul, my head’s ringing; my Father’s on the megaphone. Saying “Stop killing yourself and do the very best. Some things make your heart itch, and you don’t yet know what. But it won’t be you who cleans up this mess, write the Law upon your eyelids, let the Spirit do the rest.” Laughter is more precious than every ounce of gold. Our joy is bought, but never sold. My lungs expand with the warm breath of God; I wanna breathe so deep that they explode. Love is more precious than every pint of blood which runs down these bodies and into the mud. I watched him dead, soaking in a bathtub—the fool who believed himself more precious than love, but his blood ran down the drain and into the mud.
•••4••• Let us repay evil with evil. Take advantage of all the stupid people. Let us claim our Christian ideals while making martyrs of Ishmael. Let us play “I know Jesus.” But trash His wombs and burn His fetus. But when He comes down as fire, we’ll seek the refuge of the grave. Which side are you on? I know the grass is greener on the fence. Let us use words like “hope” and “change” in history’s mere re-arrangement. Let us muddy our waters and appear deep when all our service is for manna. Which side are you on?, etc. I know the grass is greener on the fence with an ichthus tattooed on the liar’s lips.
•••5••• If you are not wise… you treat your elders like legions of demons… then you are not Job… if your friends and family they persecute you, when you study their lives waiting to find fault… and you are not Noah if you’re not the only righteous man on earth… if you built an ark for no one but yourself… then you are not Christ… if you strain at gnats and swallow a camel… then you are not Nehemiah, stop running ‘round pulling out our beards, you noisy gong and clanging cymbal. If you are not kind, if you are not patient, then you are not Job.
•••7••• Picked you up from the local airport; took you up above the city. We drank beer and talked of God; both agreed that the church was lazy. We didn’t fight at all that night, we must be changing. Strange thing this sickness does, demands patience, requires love. Unless of course, you’re content with blood when your enemy is against a wall. You could watch us all fall down, we must be crazy… without you, with only ourself, without light. We would tear limbs from our body; we would let the cancer grow. We drink His blood and talk of love, but never pray forgiveness follows. You could let us all fall down, we must be crazy. Without you, etc. Let’s get out of here when we tear apart His house… when our lips are poison… when our tongues are wagging. Let’s get out of here!!
•••8••• The view is dim behind the veil. We failed our calling to the field. Our shouldered scythes are steel and brighter, whiter than the wheat that groans and longs to fill the harvest barns, when the sons are revealed, when the Groom has come to those that yield—the fruit that’s fueled by the blood He spilled. Behind the veil, pale children line the aisle—smelling rank and filing single to fill the pews with broken people, splintered temples—we’re bound and crippled. We wink our eyes and shuffle our feet; we’ll take the milk, but hold the meat; we’re all first chair in the scoffer’s seat. You became the veil, lifted up and top down torn. Curses-crowned and robed with bruises; You were mute before your accusers. You kept the promise our Father gave us. We give You praise, our Groom, our Christ! We’re dead to sin because You died, because You rose, we know we too will rise.
•••9••• A drift of dirt in a clean-pressed shirt sits on a throne of clay. He says what’s just from his court of dust, and the strawmen all obey. But I pray our children will not exchange the heart of eternity for an image of man—the vacuous now, the glamorous today!, etc. Paint the plague a different shade. Black is such a bore. Mask old death in pink baby’s breath if red’s been used before. Empty wine bags and fashion magazines have separated us from our pedigree. Valium and little dogs—dictions of the dirt—old-fashioned lines to cover up our passing, the vacuous now, etc.
•••10••• This entertainment age clutters my brain, drives me insane. So many worlds to get lost in: a million states of mind. We all disperse seeking comfort first until the day of reckoning. This entertainment age softens my mind, keeps me in line. I wonder what the world was like before the technicolor flood, I wonder what the world was like before our nightlights killed the stars. Where you gonna run!? Where you gonna hide?! … when you die, etc.
•••11••• When I watch you sleeping, when I watch you eat, you’re strange to me, strange and beautiful. I forget to buy my cigarettes looking past the liquor store—you’re strange to me, strange and beautiful. When you’re unaware, when you’re in a dream, I watch you and cry, cry with gratitude. Your slumber is my vice, you peaceful voyeur’s treat. You’re strange to me, babe. Strangely wonderful.
•••12••• This government has become so grand with its tipping scales and its shifting sand. Politics persuade the people to pick a puppet of two little men. Murder Muslims, cut out babies—what’s your preference of bloodshed? Either party will put your little lights out, some small profit’s beginning and end. Worry for tomorrow now. You know not what you’ll eat or drink. You occupy your mind with things like movie stars and get-rich schemes. Trade your money for tangible gold. Trade your puppet’s funny message of hope. Build your house on the Rock of Immanuel; set your clocks for the end of all time. Worry not. Tomorrow’s here. You know now what you’ll eat and drink. Occupy your mind with grace for sacrifice and length of days. Washington is Hollywood … Plug your ears to Washington … Close your eyes to Hollywood—nightmares are what once were dreams.